Page 8 of Her Guardian Demon

"Listen carefully, half-breed," she hisses, her beautiful face twisted with malice. "I don't know what Kieran sees in you, butknow this. You don't belong here. This is a place for true fae, not some dirty hexblood playing at magic. You'll never be one of us."

Something in me snaps. All the fear, all the pain, all the pent-up emotion of the past weeks comes surging out. "You know nothing about me," I snarl, feeling that same dark power rising within me. "I belong here more than you know."

I don't consciously cast a spell, but suddenly Vesper is flying backward, slamming into the wall with a sickening crunch. She slumps to the ground, her perfect form crumpled like a discarded doll, unconscious or worse.

Before I can react, a thunderous voice echoes through the corridor. "What is the meaning of this?" Professor Thornweave materializes between us, her usual ethereal grace replaced by a terrifying intensity.

Her eyes, now swirling pools of midnight, dart between me and the prone form of Vesper. "Explanations can wait," she says, her voice cold as midwinter. "Both of you, to the infirmary. Now."

With a wave of her hand, Vesper's unconscious form rises, floating eerily beside us as Professor Thornweave marches me down the winding corridors of Ravencrest.

The infirmary, when we arrive, is like something out of a mad scientist's fever dream. Gone are the sterile whites and antiseptic smells of mortal hospitals. Instead, the air is thick with the scent of herbs both familiar and alien, undercut by a metallic tang that makes my stomach churn.

The flesh-crafters who staff the place are disturbing amalgamations of healers and butchers. One approaches me, her six arms moving in perfect synchronization as she examines my injured limb. Another tends to Vesper, his eyes – all dozen of them – blinking in unsettling patterns as he assesses her condition.

"Tsk, tsk," my attendant clucks, her voice a discordant harmony as if multiple beings are speaking at once. "Simple mandrake wound, exacerbated by... Oh my, what delightful chaos magic!"

She begins to patch up my arm with a mixture of spellwork and bizarre stitchery. The thread she uses seems to be alive, wriggling as it weaves through my flesh. All the while, she and her colleagues discuss my case as if I'm not even there.

"Look at this latent structure," one says, pointing at something I can't see. "With a few adjustments, we could significantly enhance her magical conductivity."

"Oh yes," another chimes in, "and perhaps an extra limb or two? For improved spellcasting, of course."

"Now, now," my attendant chides, though I detect a note of reluctance in her voice. "You know we can't make improvements without consent. More's the pity."

I shudder, suddenly very glad for whatever rules are holding them back. Across the room, I see Vesper stirring, her perfect features marred by a spectacular bruise blossoming across her cheek.

As the flesh-crafters finish their work, Professor Thornweave reappears. "You'll both report to the Headmaster's office tomorrow morning," she announces. "I suggest you spend the intervening time reflecting on the consequences of your actions."

With that ominous pronouncement, we're dismissed. As I hurry out of the infirmary, my newly healed arm itching in a way that suggests the healing is more cosmetic than complete, my mind races.

I've made an enemy today, that much is certain. But I've also discovered a well of power within me that I never knew existed. I can't go back to my room, not yet. I need... something. Answers, maybe. Or just a moment of peace.

My feet carry me to the library, a vast, labyrinthine space where the books sometimes rearrange themselves when you're not looking. I wander deep into its depths, past sections marked with warnings I can't even read.

A book catches my eye, its spine adorned with a symbol that looks oddly familiar. With a start, I realize it's the same mark I've had on my palm since birth – the mark I always thought was just a strangely shaped birthmark.

Heart pounding, I pull the book from the shelf. Its title, written in script that seems to writhe on the page, reads"Hexeblood: The Forbidden Lineage."

I lose track of time as I pore over the book, my mind reeling with each revelation. Hexebloods, it seems, are rare beings born of the union between humans and powerful magical entities. We have the potential for immense power, but at a cost – we're drawn to darkness, to chaos and destruction.

Is this why Kieran brought me here? Why he seems so invested in my progress? Am I just a weapon he's forging for some larger plan?

The weight of it all – the nightmares, the brutal lessons, the constant fear, and now this knowledge of what I am – comes crashing down on me. I curl up in a corner of the library, the forbidden book clutched to my chest, and finally, let myself break.

I didn’t sign up for this.

I just wanted to live my life and finish college.

And now I’m this…

I sob until I have no tears left, my body shaking with the force of my despair.

6

KIERAN

Istand at the edge of the in-between, dark energies swirling around me as I craft the nightmare realm. This will be no ordinary test for Aria. No, this will be a crucible, designed to break her or forge her into something magnificent.

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